Deadbeat Pseudo
by iamsolarflare
Summary: PH-37 isn't ACTUALLY Herobrine. He's a Pseudo, a ghostly Player roaming around in the mysterious entity's form. And he's got a job to do, a Task to finish. Problem is, that Task is likely going to throw him directly into the warpath of some of the most dangerous entities around, the people and things that make Herobrine look tame. Then again, at least he's got tricks up his sleeve.
1. PH-37

_**((As dictated to me by a certain annoying ghost.))**_

* * *

**Deadbeat Pseudo**

**Chapter 1**

**PH-37**

* * *

It's snowing again.

Now, this shouldn't be all too abnormal. After all, in wintery biomes, it snows heavily whenever it rains anywhere else in the world. And don't get me wrong, it's hardly upsetting. I like the cold, quite frankly, it clears my mind and hones it to a fine edge.

But this is a _desert._

In other words, I have a hacker to deal with.

I flip off the ledge of floating sand I'm standing on, purposely smashing my foot into it as I jump and causing the structure to collapse. The soft sound it makes is satisfying, and I grin.

Now, it's time I did something about this game-breaker. Where could he be?

I scan the desert sands for a username box. Left, right, in front, behind, and up all yield me nothing, but when I look down and to the left I can see it, a faint grey box with white text.

_Hah. _Found him.

I carefully walk towards the box until I'm directly above it, then stomp down on the sand. Just as I suspected, he's been utilizing floating sand and it collapses. I fall gently to my feet on top of the sand.

The hacker's reaction is irate. In the same, near monotonous but slightly emotive voice all player skins share, he snaps at me.

"what the f***, dood!? that was hard to make!1!"

"I don't care." I let my voice carry the barest hint of anger, even though I'm perfectly aware the user will only see text.

"well i do! get outa here or else"

"Or else what?" I fold my arms, a meaningless gesture to the player but one that makes me content. "Player, don't you know who I am?"

"u r not foolin anyone. just cause you have a skin doesnt mean youre the guy"

I look up, over my head. "Heh. But I'm not carrying a username, am I?"

"yeah but you could have a mod" he responds. His lack of proper grammar is evident, even though it's through voice and not text that I see it.

"I could. I could also be the real deal, here to get you to quit screwing with the coding of this game. After all, I have to live here."

"u suck man. u r not him and you kno it. go back to ur dirt house."

I groan. "Your disregard for both the English language and the integrity of this place is appalling. Do I have to tell you again?"

"u can say whatevr but im not gunna listen 2 u."

"_Fine_." I spread my arms, flicking out my fingers at the same time, and lightning leaps from the pointer finger on my left hand. It hits a block of sand with a deafening _CRACK_, turning the item to glass.

The hacker panics as he realizes what he's actually facing and attempts to run down a side passage, but I fire another bolt and collapse it before he gets there. "Maybe you should be using a material sturdier than sand, imbecile."  


He turns and faces me instead, holding a diamond sword in his right hand. It glows with an enchantment that's likely not legal. If he gets a hit on me, it'd hurt quite a bit.

Fortunately, player skins can't fight somebody like yours truly.

I run to the wall and across it, dodging the clumsy blow he executes, and kick him in the crotch. He spins around and attempts to hit me again, but I've already used what little room for maneuvers I have to jump behind him and kick him again, this time square in the back.

He rushes at me, but I step slightly aside of his swing and slap him across the face. I'd wager the poor man's utterly confused and frightened by now, since to a player it would look like he landed a direct hit on me, yet I somehow didn't take damage.

I launch into a quick flurry of punches, batting aside his blade whenever it comes near, then step back a meter or so and grin at him.

"Go home, _hacker_."

He charges, but I just fire another bolt at him and the skin dies, leaving behind an inventory full of more illegally got items. Among them, I can see a bucket full of lava, so I reach towards it, brushing the other items away, then dig a hole in the sand, push the items into it, and cover them with the lava.

No more hacked items for this guy, he'll have to start anew.

The server announcer, a pleasant and robotic female tone, announces his death brightly.

"imultiminer6699 was slain by Herobrine."

I can hear confused mutters from the link the players share, the "global chat".

"Hey, wasn't Ulti a hacker?"

"There's a Herobrine plugin!? Sweet!"

"who wants to go loot him?"

I smirk, and, unable to resist the temptation, send out a message to the players of the server.

"This is what happens to hackers."

Naturally, the chat erupts into chaos.

* * *

My name's Lucas, actually, and I was 10 when I died. I'm not 10 now, obviously.

See, I guess I wasn't good or bad enough to move on, so I ended up haunting a computer game, my copy of Minecraft. I'm told that in order to ascend, I have to complete my Mission. Unfortunately, I don't know what that is.

Still, I have a pretty good life - I can roam server to server, dishing out justice with a side of lighting, which is apparently a special ability of mine.

Plus, being a crazy kid obsessed with Herobrine when I first died, I now look like him. Mind you, I was young, so if any non-player entity was to look at me, they'd see a 10-year old with glowing eyes, blue jeans, and a turquoise shirt.

People like me, dead spirits in games unable to ascend until they complete a Mission, people with special abilities related to many different things, are called Purgeists. Those especially like me, the ones that choose to haunt Minecraft in Herobrine's form, are called Pseudos.

I'm PH-37, Lightning Purgeist and 37th most dangerous Herobrine out there.

Yeah, nice to meet you too. Keep an eye out.

* * *

**_((And thus ends the first chapter of PH-37's story. If you guys have any questions for him, leave them in the reviews and I'll send them to him.))_**

**_((-Ivy))_**


	2. The Wither Triplets

**Deadbeat Pseudo**

**Chapter 2**

**The Wither Triplets**

* * *

It's a rainy day on the plains, and the rivers are mildly flooding. The sky's grey, the wind is at a level where it stings my face, and thunder crackles overhead, while I'm soaked to the bone, slogging through mud, and in general not having a good time.

But I need to find this thing, stat.

Rumor holds that in a bay near here, there's a _live Wither _under the sand and clay, or at least there's the health bar of one. According to chatter I've heard, though, there's no actual Wither. Just ocean and the health bar. I've been out there myself - I could sense a presence, but nothing attacked me and there was no noise made besides squids splashing in the water.

I don't like things like that. Weird occurrences such as these not only make me nervous, but also give me a feeling halfway between nausea and the chill of icy water. It's not a good feeling.

So here I am, tracking the faint feeling in the pit of my stomach despite common sense telling me not to.

It doesn't take long for me to hear something - specifically, someone speaking.

**"Ay Mister-"**

_"-You look-"_

"-Lost."

The voices sound nearly the same, but each one has a slightly different tone to it. I whip around towards the source of the sound and find the gaping maw of a _gigantic _cavern. Three figures are standing _just barely _in the light.

"Seriously though."

**"D'you need help?"**

_"Because it seems like it."_

I raise my voice to call down to them. "I'm looking for a Wither that won't appear in the bay over there. Do you-"

**_"-IT'S NOT OUR__ FAULT."_** Their voices sync with each other, and that feeling in the pit of my stomach becomes very, very uncomfortable. I take a step back.

"Could you guys come out?" Nervous as I am, I wave to them and try to look friendly. "I can't see you down there."

They leap forwards and up at the same time, practically flying at me, and I jump back, startled.

_"I'm Mitre." _The one with a slightly silvery voice steps forward and bows; he's wearing all white from head to toe. His skin's pale, almost white as well, but his eyes are pitch-black. Despite the unnerving feeling they give me, he seems fairly friendly.

**"Ultor." **The one farthest to the right is the polar opposite of Mitre, and his voice is overly casual and rather deep. He's wearing all black, his skin's nearly just as dark, and his eyes are as white as snow.

"Carthage at your service." The last one, who speaks in a self-important tone, is dressed in a grey halfway between the other two's colors. His skin is ashen and his eyes are too - he almost seems to be entirely made of the same color.

"I'm PH-37. Call me Herobrine if the numbers are too much trouble."

At the mention of my title, the three of them start whispering back and forth at an alarmingly fast pace, one so speedy I can hardly tell any of what they're saying.

**"PH-"**

"-Pseudo-"

_"-geist-"_

"-Edit-"

**"-the Vi-"**

_"-e cou-"_

"-resist-"

_"-but if-"_

**"-o 'cau-"**

_"-then a-"_

"-if he s-"

**"-ave to."**

_**"Can you help us out with**** something?"**_ They seem to have come to an agreement now, as they're facing me once more and speaking in unison.

It's at this point in time that I decide to throw caution to the winds - after all, these three may very well have something to do with my Mission.

"Yes. I'll help you three, what needs to be done?"

**"See, we were once-"**

_"-a normal Wither-"_

**"-until someone came-"**

"-and Edited us."

_"If you can-"_

"-please make them-"

_"-change us back-"_

**"-or at the least-"**

"-kill them."

I nod solemnly, a little frightened at the prospect of fighting someone that could create these three from a bog-standard Wither. "I'll do it. How do I start?"

Ultor gives me a friendly grin. **"I'll help you in combat. I know weaknesses, dirty and clean tricks, the whole book of war if you will. Just think the word and I've got your back."**

Carthage raises a hand calmly. "I know all there is to know about biomes and blocks, whether modded or vanilla. Call on me if you need navigation or identification help."_  
_

Mitre just nods. _"I'm good at anything to do with communication. If you have trouble finding the right words, ask me for them."_

**_"Good luck, PH-37."_**

The three of them vanish suddenly, leaving me disoriented and a bit confused. The feeling in the pit of my stomach is gone now, though, and the rain seems to have cleared up while I was talking to the triplets.

It's a bit nicer out now. Sure, it's still muddy, I'm still wet, and there are still high winds, but they're blowing sea breeze in now, my hair and clothes are drying, and I'm one step closer to the end of my Mission.

And I need to find whoever changed those guys, stat.

* * *

**_((That's the second chapter, folks! It's a little shorter than the last one, but hopefully the content's just as good. Please review, Lucas wants to know if his life seems interesting to you guys.))_**

**_((-Ivy))_**


	3. Lurch

_**((There's a character in here that uses music. A lot of it. So I'd like to try and soundtrack this - this is optional but may help you guys out. First, play "Tubular Bells" - just the song, not the album. When the music changes, play "Night Shade" by AdhesiveWombat.))**_

* * *

**Deadbeat Pseudo**

**Chapter 3**

**Lurch**

* * *

There's bedrock and floating sand _everywhere._

After finding the Wither triplets, I'd decided to investigate more so-called "haunted" seeds, hoping to find a lead to whoever changed them, but none of the seeds, even the ones with weird things, had anything out of the norm enough.

And then this beast appears, borne on player chatter. They told anybody willing to listen that the seed was absolutely messed up, that blocks randomly changed textures or dropped different things, that items broke or appeared out of nowhere, that physics began applying to the wrong blocks, that cows began to behave like zombie pigmen sometimes, that _entire cave systems _appeared and disappeared without warning, that bedrock could be broken by hand sometimes, that even Herobrine couldn't be causing all these things.

It's definitely not the work of someone like me, that's for sure, and I highly doubt even a _real _Herobrine would do something like this.

But it fits the bill of what the triplets described.

I cautiously step around another block, fully aware that things are starting to get more chaotic. My stomach isn't in good shape, either - that sickening feeling I get whenever I'm around corrupt code just keeps getting stronger and stronger. Clearly, something's up.

Suddenly, it gets cold. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, but I keep moving.

As I walk forward, it starts getting warmer instead until it's sweltering, a Nether-like temperature. It keeps fluctuating between the two extremes, between hot and cold, until it suddenly evens out again.

My stomach is beginning to churn now; this level of corruption would likely even affect player skins. I decide to contact one of the triplets in hopes of keeping myself distracted.

"Mitre? You there?"

His voice rings out in my mind, carrying with it the barest hint of sarcasm. _"No, I'm not."_

"Good to know. Are you seeing this?"

_"Technically not, but I can essentially guess what it's like. It's not the same person, you know."_

I groan. "You mean I waded into this nauseating wasteland for nothing!?"

_"Don't be like that. If we can find this person, they may very well be a powerful ally."_

He has a point. I sigh and continue walking, then stop again. I can hear a faint tune playing in the distance, and it's putting me on edge.

"Anyone got an idea what that is?"

Carthage speaks up this time. "I think it's a song called 'Tubular Bells'."

"Wait, wasn't that used in that one horror movie?"

"I don't know, PH-37. That's not the type of thing I can get information on as easily."

Well, this is just _wonderful. _I'm climbing through corrupt code that's likely tearing my stomach to shreds, and now there's an ominous horror theme that I have to head towards. Fun times, right?

Still, I have to keep moving.

* * *

It's another hour before I reach the source of the music.

There's a lone person just standing there, some kind of small tornado whipping around them, numbers and strings of garbled code crackling in various places. I don't know who or what they are, but they're tearing the game apart.

"Hey, you! Cut it out!"

They turn ever so slightly towards me, glaring, and I step back as my stomach lurches particularly hard.

"What do you _want!?_" His voice (it's definitely male, although it sounds rather garbled) is sharp and cold, and it scares me a bit.

"I _said_, cut it out."

He laughs. "Why?"

"It's ripping the game apart, and, quite frankly, some of us do need to live here. Plus, the players are catching on."

"But they can't really do anything about me, can they?" He strides closer, and I get a better look at him.

He's of average height and a bit on the skinny side, and he wears a deep black tailed suit and jabot that fit him rather well. Every inch of his skin that I see has strange, small black marks on it that look like a circuit board, and his eyes are the same jet-black as the rest of his outfit. His right eye has two marks under it, a musical sharp and flat, and his left eye - and the side of his face - is slashed through vertically. The cut oozes black.

Every single sane part of me practically _screams _"run away" right now, but I manage to stay in the same place and glare back at him. "No, but I can."

He spreads his hands wide, as if about to conduct an orchestra. "You intend to fight me?"

It's go time. "No, I intend to kick your sorry arse."

He lunges, the music around him changing to something different, and I sidestep, then draw my only weapon - an iron sword.

"So, are you keeping time?" The music is escalating dramatically, but it's still the same song. I know what's going on here... this is a straight up challenge and he wants me to play by his rules.

I think I know those rules; keep the beat or die.

I move with the percussion, since it seems to be the most consistent thing, and slash in time. Whoever he is, he has a major advantage - he probably knows this song, and I don't. While I'm stuck with a simple beat, he's using the melody to keep up constant movement, flipping and spinning away from every maneuver.

I can't even get one hit in, so I turn to defensive just as the percussion drops out and the man attacks me. I stumble over my own feet in a desperate attempt to guard against the blows, but he's too fast for me and I'm hit.

I can't even see if he's using a weapon because I'm facing away from where he hits, but it feels like a sharp sword just slashed through a good part of my cheek. My stomach lurches, and I feel myself suddenly blink to the left a bit, like player skins do when they get lagged.

Pulling myself up, I flip over him - the song has looped, and I know where we are now. There's no time to be confused over what just happened - I need to move, move, move.

I put lightning into my strikes this time, spinning with the tune, and he takes one straight to the gut.

He rushes me, glaring, and that same invisible sword cuts into my side.

It _really _hurts this time, and my stomach goes nuts. I can feel myself lag-jump again, this time behind him. I use the opportunity to slice at his back but when I do he whips around and kicks me straight in the stomach.

My gut goes _nuts_, but oddly enough the pain subsides pretty fast this time. I look down at my hands and see something weird - the lightning marks on my hands have seemingly turned to lightning, and it's spreading to the rest of my body.

It doesn't seem to hurt me, though, so I keep fighting.

He's hitting harder now, but every time it hits the lurch in my stomach nullifies the pain. I'm getting used to the song as it shifts back and forth, even though parts are playing that I haven't heard before, and my movements feel lighter.

Am I turning into lightning? It seems like it, or something similar. That gut feeling that I hated before now feels like a good part of me, something keeping me anchored to the ground as I teleport from place to place, my strikes now naturally keeping the melody.

**"This is called glitchform,"** Ultor announces out of the blue. **"It's a defense mechanism shared by all Purgiests. They essentially become their element."**

Good to know.

The guy in black stumbles and falls over, and the music stops short.

The second he hits the ground, the feeling in my stomach recedes and I hit the ground, too, although my descent is a bit more coordinated.

The black is leaching out of his outfit and skin, and he looks friendlier.

Also, he seems unconscious. I grab his arm, haul him over to a block, and prop him up against it.

So much for tracking down the person that Edited the Wither triplets - although he _could_ be a lead.

I'll have to wait for him to wake up.

* * *

**_((Ah, this was the first time I've had fun writing a fight scene. Tell me what you think in a review, please!))_**

**_((-Ivy))_**


	4. Elsewhere

_**((Just a quick look at what some other people are doing. This'll become important in time.))**_

* * *

**Deadbeat Pseudo**

**Chapter 4**

**Elsewhere**

* * *

She's everywhere, everywhere I go there's that same damn masked face taunting me.

Whoever she is, no matter why she's had it out for me since I first got here, I know she's just going to be one step ahead of me _again_. Like as always.

Hell, even my other side's scared of her. Why wouldn't he be?

I've seen her in action too many times, a whirling dervish of destruction is the best way to describe her. She wants you dead, you're dead. Game over.

Except for me, it seems. Somehow, some way, I survive. Maybe it's my other side that's helping me out? Hell if I know.

All I know is that I've just got to keep moving, because if I stop, _even_ once, she'll be able to ambush me.

And then?

Then everything I do to try and survive will go to waste.

* * *

It's always freaking cold, even if I'm in the desert. Maybe it's because I'm a, quote, "evil corruption of one already wicked", end quote? Hah, maybe.

Probably not. It's probably just my genetics speaking, seeing as I'm _fairly_ sure I'm cold-blooded.

I turn around and survey these surroundings again. Plenty of zombies, creepers, and skeletons around, a couple of Endermen and spiders too. _Perfect_.

I don't ask for much other than this. It's really quite easy to survive if you're someone like me, actually.

There aren't any Players around, so I go ahead and take out my prized possession.

What it is isn't exactly known to me, but I'd call it a core piece. A piece of the core from the monster that made me, something that holds powers grand and boosts what neat things I can already do.

A green-tinted meteor streaks through the sky and slams into the ground near a particularly large group of mobs, and instead of scattering they just stare at it, more coming to join them.

I watch them, content for once. Mind you, I'll have to get rid of that thing soon. Can't have it corrupting Players or bad things will happen.

Stowing away the red core fragment, I get up and meander towards the mobs.

"Evening, my friends."

They turn to face me, but don't respond. Of course they don't - it doesn't work that way.

I look the tallest Ender in the eye, and it does nothing, just stares back with vacant, glowing, lime-green eyes.

"Nice night we're having, no?"

I pace around the monsters, peering at each of them and checking for that empty green glow. Sure enough, each and every one of them have that distinctive eye color.

"Follow me," I order, then turn and walk past the meteor. As I pass it, it decays and vanishes.

The mobs, however, keep following in a kind of deathly parade, not even burning when the sun begins to rise.

On this night, my forces are officially an army.

Time to track down the owner of this core at last.

* * *

**_((It's short. Kinda getting writer's block lately.))_**

**_((-Ivy))_**


End file.
